


This world is like a snake, soft to the touch, but full of venom inside

by DarkmoonSigel



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Badass Angel, Badass Aziraphale, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), as above so below - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 15:25:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19771066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkmoonSigel/pseuds/DarkmoonSigel
Summary: A horde of Heaven and Hell try to take down Crowley. Aziraphale is not happy about it





	This world is like a snake, soft to the touch, but full of venom inside

**Author's Note:**

> Title is a quote by Imam Ali

It was easy to miss certain things about another after long periods of time together. Familiarity could breed an easy forgetfulness. Aziraphale was just Aziraphale now to Crowley. His angel who was a kind yet fussy little bookworm, who loved his food and other luxuries. The demon never forget that Aziraphale was an angel. It just became a background thing, like Aziraphale having blond hair. For the most part, it didn’t define him like it did with the rest of the angels. 

Crowley was thinking about Aziraphale a lot at the moment, wondering in particular if he’d ever see the angel again. Working with Heaven, his former comrades of Hell surrounded Crowley, just as he got out of the Bentley to head over to the bookshop.

In retrospect, Crowley chided himself that he should have known something was amiss, the streets of Soho clear of any humans, at least in this section. Apparently, the pair rated high enough in Heaven and Hell’s bad books to merit an alliance, both sides united in their mutual hatred for them. 

They were so fucked, Crowley trying to determine his odds, which weren’t looking too good. There was simply too many of them, and Crowley doubted that he could talk his way out of this one. Gabriel and Beelzebub didn’t appear to be in a very talkative mood if their weapons in hand were anything to go by. Hastur was wearing an essentially nasty smile, which meant nothing good for anyone ever.

“I love you, angel.” Crowley prayed, wishing and wanting for so much more. If only he knew a word more powerful than love because Crowley would have used that to describe how he felt about Aziraphale. He should have hung around Shakespeare more. 

At the very least, and against all odds, he had survived long enough to witness that love returned. That meant something, right? Well, Crowley decided to make whatever happened next count. He didn’t know where Aziraphale was, or if he was even safe, but Crowley was to make sure they paid dearly for anything they might do, or had done to his angel. 

Crowley readied himself the best he could as the horde closed in on him, intending to tear him limb from limb. Refusing to give them the satisfaction of that, Crowley changed his shape, letting go of his form so that he could rear up like a cobra, fangs glistening with strange poisons toxic enough to kill his own kind, and even angels he hoped. 

Dodging and slithering nimbly between blows, Crowley used his speed and flexibility to allude capture, spitting acidic venom as he wove through legs and over bodies when he could. 

As he took a swipe at Dagon’s legs with his tail to knock the Lord of the Files on their ass, Crowley wondered what they were planning on doing with him, if they were going to keep him alive. Hell and Heaven weren’t very imaginative or clever, but they were thorough, having the patience for it in spades, and the demon knew he had definitely pissed off more than a few of them. 

There was the smell of rain, and then there was screaming. To Crowley’s surprise, it wasn’t coming from him. Everyone came to a standstill, allowing Crowley to assess just what the hell was happening. 

Golden blood was being spilled. Someone new had entered the fray. An angel was dying, his true voice shattering all the windows nearby. 

“Aziraphale.” Crowley whispered, feeling like he had just been punched in the gut, dizzy from the sudden sensation of it. It was never meant to come to this. 

Aziraphale has just torn the wings off of an angel with his bare hands, tossing them aside like they were garbage. Considering that they had come off the back of Sandlephon, it wasn’t a bad assessment in Crowley’s opinion. 

Stepping on Sandlephon’s head to completely crush the angel’s skull, Aziraphale silenced him forever as the angel armed himself with Sandlephon’s sword. 

Eyes wide and all on him, the horde drew back as much as they could without appearing that they were retreating. Aziraphale burned with a white hot power that poured off of his body in strange pale flames, a cold blue light pouring from his eyes.

As everyone was stunned into a complete silence, Aziraphale unfurled his wings, two pairs of pure white wings that were edged with a hard golden metallic shine that looked razor sharp. His usually expressive face was stone, the lack of expression carved out by fury and frigid determination.

Heaven and Hell had both forgotten what Aziraphale had originally been in the beginning. The angel had been a Cherubim, one of God’s enforcers. Heaven’s higher-ups had assumed God had demoted Aziraphale to a Principality as punishment. The other angels had scorned the angel for it, forgetting about the ineffability of Her plans. When it was all said and done, God was simply putting her best people where She needed them the most. In her infinite wisdom, God had never taken away any of Aziraphale’s true powers. She just never told anyone that, and Aziraphale chose not to use them. 

...Until now. 

Someone was definitely going to die today, and Crowley had a budding feeling of hope that it wasn’t going to be him. Biting Hastur because the demon was distracted and he could, Crowley slithered as fast as his scales would carry him to his angel, adjusting his size as he went along so that he could crawl up Aziraphale’s leg, wrapping himself around the angel’s body. If he concentrated, Crowley could imagine that his scales were made of the hardest armor, and it would be so, that he could protect his angel that way.

Crowley made it just in time because all the eyes on Aziraphale’s wings opened along with the third one in the middle of his forehead, like blue stars embedded in feathers and flesh. They were placed there so that nothing could sneak up on the angel, the perfect warrior, Aziraphale setting his commandeered sword alight with Heaven’s flame. 

The horde never stood a chance, Aziraphale tearing through them like a shark locked onto its meal. Stinking black and golden blood fell like strange rains in this street of Soho. Demons were smited in their own bodies, their essence burned to nothingness so that it poured out like pus from their eyes and mouths. 

In stark comparison, the angels were shown a precise brutality as Aziraphale hacked through them with cold efficiency, every move calculated and perfectly timed. Aziraphale did not falter. He did not hesitate. The angel did not stop until all were dead, with the exceptions of Gabriel and Beelzebub, the pair huddled together.

Crowley didn’t understand why they were still here, why no one had left when given half a chance.

“They can’t leave.” Crowley realized, wondering if that was their doing from the get-go, or if it was Aziraphale’s will. For Crowley’s money, he was betting Heaven and Hell cocked things up for themselves. Not very bright or clever, the horde had probably locked them all in to keep their intended prey from escaping. By doing so though, they had locked themselves into this narrow space as well, the daft wankers.

“What have you done?” It was Gabriel who found his voice first.

“You would think it would be fairly obviousss.” Crowley hissed, making a show of looking at the carnage all around them.

“Why couldn’t you have just listened? You were warned, Gabriel.” Aziraphale spoke in his true voice, reality rattling all around them from it. It made Crowley shiver from it, wrapped around so close to the source. There was so much power there, and it has been so long since he had heard Enochian. 

“You’re traitors.” Beelzebub said.

“You two freaks are abominations!” Gabriel all but spit out the words. “Especially you, Aziraphale! Sullying yourself with this demon! We have every right.”

“And what? Lord Beelzebub is just an acquaintance of yours?” Crowley pointed out, “A bit ‘pot,kettle’, don't you think?”

“You shut your fucking mouth.” Gabriel snapped, moving an aggressive step forward to take two desperate steps back when Aziraphale made it clear that that kind of language was not appreciated. 

“Please don’t talk to my husband that way, or else I’ll be forced to cut your tongue out, repeatedly.” Aziraphale said almost casually as he leveled his sword to Gabriel’s face.

“Husband?” Crowley said, loosening up his coils so that he could look at his angel. Aziraphale definitely looked serious enough for it. 

“I was going to bring it up. I got you a ring and everything. It’s in my coat pocket if you want it.”

“For how long in your pocket?” Crowley asked, because Aziraphale never didn’t anything without great amounts of thought put into it. 

“An embarrassing long while now, I’m afraid to admit. Never seemed liked the right time for it.” Aziraphale said with a soft smile as a dexterous snake dug out small yet highly recognizable velvet box.

If snakes could cry, Crowley would have teared up. The velvet had been a sumptuous deep red, but was terribly worn down in its corners. It must have been in Aziraphale’s pocket for a while now. 

Making use of his coils, Crowley popped the box open just for show, taking his time looking at it. The demon was grateful that he was already in snake form, or else he might have embarrassingly reverted from his sea of emotions. It simply wouldn’t do to become a blithering, soppy mess in front of their enemies

“Yeah, it’s alright. I think I’m ready to take the plunge with you.” Crowley said as he wrapped his coils tightly around the velvet box, keeping it safe for later when he had fingers.

“Fancy a spring wedding?” Crowley asked. 

“No, actually, I would like to get married as soon as we are done here, if you don’t terribly mind.” Aziraphale said, shocking them all. “We can have something more formal later on.”

“Sounds good.” Crowley said, grateful that he didn’t need to breathe, and that snakes didn’t have tear ducts. 

“If you two traitors are done being obnoxious.” Beelzebub said.

“Well, that’s not very nice.” Crowley sighed upon being reminded that they had company.

“All my other words are worse, you treacherous worm.”

“If I were you two, I would be a lot less lippy, especially when considering all your backup is dead.” Crowley pointed out to make Beelzebub swallow back any more insults. 

“When did you lose your faith in Her?” Aziraphale asked Gabriel, reminding the celestial being that he wasn’t off the hook just yet. 

“I am a fucking archangel. I am the very embodiment of faith.” Gabriel swore to be met with a calm even look from the other angel.

“You are an angel who hates. You weren’t created for that.”

“What?”

“You do. You loathe this planet, and all the inhabitants on it. You always have. You’re jealous of them, the humans.” Aziraphale gestured helplessly around them. 

“J-jealous?! Of them!?” Gabriel sputtered, “How dare you!”

“What is even worse is that you’re mad at God. She doesn’t talk to you anymore.” Aziraphale said, not even bothering to make it a question. 

“When was the last time God spoke to you? To any of us?” Gabriel demanded.

“She just did. She told me to come here, to do Her will.” Aziraphale said, the pitying look he gave the archangel was heartbreaking. Crowley almost felt bad for the inept bastard...almost.

“When I get back to Heaven...” Gabriel began, trialing off as Aziraphale made some soft tutting noises.

“I’m afraid not. I doubt you’ll see Heaven any time soon.” Aziraphale said as he gestured at the pair, causing their feet to sink into the ground. It kept the Prince of Hell and archangel firmly in place. “She doesn’t want you there, not anymore.”

“What do you think you’re doing?” Beelzebub asked as demonic and angelic wings were summoned forth against either’s will. 

“What I’m told.” Aziraphale said, cutting their wings off before setting them ablaze. When he was done, Aziraphale threw his borrowed sword aside so that he could place his palms upon the pair’s foreheads. 

“What are you doing now?” Beelzebub asked raggedly, not recognizing the spell Aziraphale was chanting. In all fairness to them, it had only been used once before, and not since the beginning. 

“I have made you human, and have given you Her blessed punishment, the very same one she gave to the first murderer. No man or creature of this Earth will do either of you harm.” Aziraphale explained as the Mark of Cain faded from sight. 

“Why?” Gabriel asked, “Why not just end us?”

“She is giving you a chance to earn your way back, the both of you. Which direction you choose to go in though is entirely up to you.”

“But where will we go?” Gabriel asked, looking scared for the first time in a very long, long time.

“Anywhere you’d like really” Crowley said, “Big old planet to explore.”

“But what will we do?” Beelzebub demanded, looking just as lost as the former archangel.”

“Whatever the Hell you want. Earth is wild about choices.” Crowley did his best version of a shrug, considering he lacked shoulders at the moment. 

“Chose wisely.” Aziraphale said, snapping the pair away to parts unknown. 

“I liked that bit about God speaking to you and all. That was clever.” Crowley said to be brought up short by the angel’s expression. It could only be described as profoundly divine.

“By the way, She says hello.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Your comments collect angel feathers. Your kudos go to therapy.


End file.
